


Denial, a lesson learnt by Michael Novotny

by cynics_united



Series: Through the Looking Glass [3]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, outside pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 02:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6781207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynics_united/pseuds/cynics_united
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Denial, as finally learnt by Michael Novotny, wasn’t just a river in Egypt. It only took another seven years, a shit ton of snow, the fiddler and some pre-teenage angst. Goddamn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Denial, a lesson learnt by Michael Novotny

Denial wasn’t just a river in Egypt.

If one more fucking body told him that stupid saying, Michael was going to start carrying a staple gun to shut their mouths. His time at the Big Q had honed his skills enough for him to consider a future in the assassination industry. Maybe that was why so many disgruntled employees returned armed with some sort of gun in hopes of retribution or revenge or their last paycheck. Well fuck. It wasn’t that bad, until the end, that is. 

But back to that saying: denial wasn’t a river in Egypt. 

What the hell was that supposed to imply? That he lived in a fantasy world – where Brian was his knight in shining armor? That he still had dreams - involving Patrick Swayze and his childhood bedroom – and wishes – of being blond and young and posed under a fucking streetlight like an underage hustler; no offense intended to his adopted son – like everyone else but that _his_ just weren’t realistic enough? That _they_ weren’t worth dreaming and wishing about? Well fuck that.

And Michael truly thought that he did. He really thought, deep down to his Italian toes, that he had put everything – _Brian_ – behind him. He had a family of his own now – Ben, his strong and gorgeous husband, Hunter, his loud and obnoxious son and J.R., his little bundle of joy. How could dreams compare to his reality now?

Denial wasn’t just a fucking river in Egypt.

So maybe, Michael had had issues with Justin. But that was years ago. And after all the shit they’d gone through together during that time – Rage and that failed movie drama, Brian and fucking cancer, and then the bomb from the ninth fucking circle of hell – Michael really thought that they had put everything to rest. Never mind the year of tense silence and blatant disapproval when Justin left Brian _again_ to follow his dreams in fucking _New York_. What the fuck was so bad about Pittsburgh? But, he really thought that it was done. Finito. Hasta la vista, baby.

All the jealousy – why was Brian still fucking that little blond twink when he visited Pittsburgh? – and the anger – why did the little shit leave Brian? Nobody leaves Brian – and the hurt – why wasn’t it him? – and the resentment – that little fucker was taking his place – and all the barrels and barrels of pent up emotions had been locked up. Some had been thrown overboard completely and others had been exorcised over the years as understanding and reluctant acceptance made its way through like termites. And Michael really thought he was over it.

Until that fateful Christmas at Ma’s house.

***

Denial wasn’t just another fucking river in fucking Egypt.

Everyone had been able to make it this year. Mel, Lindz, Gus and J.R. had arrived and were staying at Brian’s place in West Virginia – Mel and Lindz were helping Debbie bake some more cookies, Brian was agitated on his cell phone and Gus and J.R. entertained themselves with some wrapping paper, ribbon, a couple sponges and a deadly looking knife. Michael didn’t want to know. 

Ted and Blake decided against a trip to Europe this year and were busy discussing the economy and pension – of all things conversationally possible – with Carl in the living room. Emmett was floating in the kitchen from his return trip from God-knows-where-this-time with his on-again, off-again footballer, Drew and proclaimed his adventures to the girls in the kitchen with that familiar flourish.

Ben greeted Carl, Ted and Blake and joined their intellectual battle. Michael hoped he kicked their asses. Hunter smelt the cookies and abandoned him faster than Brian used to in search of his next trick. Ah, the nostalgia. Michael approached Brian as he snapped his phone shut – he once told Michael while he was stoned that he always wanted a flip phone so he could piss people off when he snapped it shut. Fucking asshole, he thought fondly.

Without a hello or anything even remotely resembling a friendly greeting, Brian snarled, “Fucking airport.” Michael remembered the kisses Brian used to share with him – simple pecks in greetings – and wondered absently when those had stopped.

Michael glanced at the children in their sadistic play as the sponges were shredded to nothing and they started on some bananas. J.R. was gathering some coins in a circle when she looked up at him and bestowed one of her gorgeous smiles. His motherly instinct couldn’t take it. “Brian, there are children here.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “With super-butch Mel as their mother-in-arms? Please, like they haven’t heard worse.”

Michael just sighed and reached to hug his best friend. “Merry Christmas to you too, Brian.”

Brian would have replied but his phone shrilled some Christmas carol irritably. “Gus, did you change my fucking ring tone again?” Not even waiting for an answer, Brian glanced at his screen and a slow, wicked smile graced his lips. “Hey,” he said in this smooth voice. “Where are you? Oh, really. Uh huh. Bullshit. Yeah, well fuck you too.”

Gus held up his hand and in all his pre-teenage glory waved it a little impatiently. Brian conceded with a playful slap on his son’s raised hand. “Hold on. The princess wants to have a word. Who do you think he inherited it from? Later.”

Gus’ face lit up as soon as the phone touched his ear. “Justin, when are you coming?”

Michael jerked back. Justin? Since when were Justin and Gus close? Since when did Gus like Justin so much as to snatch the phone from his father? And the airport… was Justin coming here as well?

J.R. perked up. “Is that Uncle Justin?”

Uncle Justin? What the fuck? Wasn’t the blond brat still living in New York for – what was it – seven years or so now? How come the kids knew him so well? What exactly were Mel and Lindz telling their children?

Michael was so busy thinking that he missed the rest of the conversation but he didn’t miss when Brian almost dashed – walked with marginally larger steps – out of the house. Without a moment’s waste, he peered out of the window and saw Justin run into Brian’s arms. Brian was lifting the blond, spinning in a little twirl where their lips had somehow met in a slow, sweet tangle. Weren’t they too old to be doing that sort of thing? The taxi had already sped off into the night but the two stood wrapped in each other, hands clutched tightly in hair and scraping and rubbing under sweaters and scarves and gloves, like a picture in a story book that he had once read to J.R. – Justin even looked like the little blonde princess with his hair that long – as the snow fell softly on their joined heads.

Michael turned around as the barrels of feelings threatened to burst, and instead, met the knowing gaze of Brian’s son – of course – Gus. Even J.R. looked at him with that look and nudged Gus. Like she was helping him out or something from whatever Gus would do or say. But what could a little boy do to him? He was a grown ass man.

Michael leant over the table they were working on and asked curiously, “What are you guys making?”

J.R. nodded emphatically as only seven-year-olds could and made a decision. “You wouldn’t understand, dad.” Looking around the room, she asked, “Where’s Benny?”

Michael grinned at the name J.R. had come up for Ben. She decided to join Ben and daddy to form Benny and that was his name from then on. But she was seven now. “You know, Ben is your daddy too, J.R.; shouldn’t you start calling him daddy? It’ll make him feel very, very happy.”

J.R. looked at him with a little trepidation. Michael didn’t know at the time how much she hated being talked to like a little girl. Then she glanced at her brother who just shrugged. Gus replied to her softly so Michael wouldn’t hear but he still caught the words. “He’s _your_ father.”

Somehow, that sounded like an insult but he wasn’t entirely sure so instead Michael joked in return, “Hey, I could have been your daddy too?”

Gus snorted immediately and didn’t even bother to hide it this time. “You really think that you had a chance with my dad?” he scoffed instead with an incredulous look on his face.

Michael felt the blood rush to his face. His jaw dropped a little. “Wha- wha-,” he stuttered out.

Gus rolled his eyes. “Oh please. Like we haven’t heard all about the untold romance between my dad and you, except there was never any romance at all.” Michael could only stare. “The Brian and Mikey show. Pathetic, and just like the very name suggests, make-believe. A fiction. A bloody story conjured up in the minds of the delusional,” Gus muttered under his breath.

J.R. fought hard to hide that smile. And that was the last fucking straw.

Michael honestly meant that maybe his sperm could have helped to create Gus, not that Brian would somehow become his husband. But what the fuck? It could have happened? Untold romance story his ass. If Justin wasn’t around, it could have happened. It could-

Gus cut in again into his thoughts. With a pointed finger, he gestured out the window at the couple outside. “That’s the real deal.” Michael could only stare as Brian rested Justin on his feet at last. His fingers gently grazed the pale cheek of the blond artist as Brian just gazed into Justin’s bright blue eyes. His fingers slowly laced their way into his blond hair and flicked the snowflakes that had piled there. Conversations in silence as the two burst out laughing with not a word exchanged. “That’s a true romance story.”

Brian and Justin. Justin and Brian. Denial. River. In. Fucking. Egypt.

Gus pushed his chair noisily from the table and, without a further word to Michael, stalked away. Michael looked at J.R. for some sort of explanation and she shrugged. “Gus is just pissed off. It’ll blow over. Don’t worry, dad.”

Michael was shocked at the venom in the miniature Brian. He asked softly, “Why is he so angry at me?”

J.R. started to spread glue on the ribbon before sprinkling shredded sponge bits over it. Absently, she answered, “Gus met one of Justin’s old friends, and he told him some stuff about before.”

Michael’s eyes widened. What? Before what? Justin’s old friends? Did he have any friends outside of that Daphne chick? “Who? Before what?”

J.R. wiped her nose with a clenched fist. “His name was Ethan and he’s this famous musician or something but Gus wanted to meet him and learn about that side of the world, you know, because Gus wants to be a true performer. Plus, he wanted to start making contacts early since that’s the ‘basic currency’ in show business. Don’t ask me to explain though. That’s what Gus said.”

Michael nodded like he understood. Who the fuck was Ethan? The name was sort of familiar and - Well fuck him. _The fiddler_? Gus met with the fiddler? No wonder he was so angry. Michael would have been pissed off too if he had to talk to that closeted home wrecker. But why the fuck was he allowed near Gus? And J.R. by proximity?

The back door was open before he knew it as he dashed outside to the embracing couple. “What the fuck, Justin?” he practically screeched.

The blond tilted his head from beneath Brian’s jaw. “Did little Mikey get coal in his stocking again?” To Brian, he spoke against the soft skin of Brian’s throat, “What bit him in the ass?”

Brian whispered against his hair, “Well, we can safely rule out Ben.” They stared at the fuming man before them. Brian called out to him, “Mikey, when was the last time you got fucked?”

Michael paused in his silent tirade. When was the last time he got laid? “What the fuck, Brian?” Shaking his head viciously, he stabbed his finger in their direction. “Stop distracting me. What the fuck was the fiddler doing around my daughter?”

Brian’s face darkened a degree at the nickname before he continued his molestation of the blond in his arms. Justin shrugged, “Gus wanted the advice and guidance of someone in the business and Ethan was in town. Problem solved.”

Michael could feel the sudden heat from his face as his Italian genes erupted in furious blustering. “Problem solved? Problem. Fucking Solved? I didn’t see Mel arranging with J.R. to meet with fucking criminals when she said she wanted to become a police officer.”

Brain started to smile, the corners of his lips nudging upwards as he nudged Justin in reciprocation and nuzzled into the blond hair that curled at the tips from the melted snowdrops.

Michael hollered, “It’s not funny, Brian! That’s _my_ daughter being exposed to that… that… that piece-of-shit home-wrecking garbage fiddler!”

Brain barely reacted to his anger, which served to make him even angrier. “Tell us how you really feel, Mikey,” he deadpanned. _Us_? - broke the anger raging through his mind momentarily. Since when did Brian refer to Brain-and-Justin as an _us_? What the fuck? Like a unified front? Like… like… like how it used to be when it was Brian-and-Mikey? When had that changed? Michael couldn't remember.

Justin - the fucking mediator he always tried to be - soothed Brian’s arm in slow, methodical movements - like he was used to it or something, but wasn't he living in fucking New York for like seven or nine or whatever fucking years now? - and murmured peacefully, “Calm down Michael. It’s not as dramatic or as dire as you’re making it sound.”

Brian finally pulled away from the blond - but only by a few inches - and scoffed in disbelief, “ _You’re_ telling Mikey not to be _dramatic_ about his family? You, the little blond drama princess - ”

Justin elbowed him with a slight glare, not even with an ounce of shame or embarrassment. “That was the past, Brian.” Turning to meet Michael’s gaze head-on, he continued in the same tone. “Ethan is also part of the past. As a romantic partner.” Thinking further on it, he added, “I doubt we could ever be friends again. Just professional acquaintances, at best.”

Michael wasn't soothed. “Then why the fuck is he talking to Gus and J.R.? And telling them lies about me?”

And then the two of them raised identical eyebrows at him like _he_ was the childish lunatic ranting and raving about the end of the world coming. These fucking assholes.

Justin asked a bit puzzled, “What do you mean? He never met J.R. He also never spoke to Gus without my presence. And he never once mentioned you.”

Michael burst again. He felt like a overused water balloon. That could burst and refill. Argh… his mind was in shambles. Fuck the metaphors. “Well, he told them that… that…” - but he felt trapped - like he couldn't get the words out, especially watching the two of them - canoodling in the fucking snow in Ma’s yard for crying out loud. “Can’t you two stop with the PDA? This is hard enough for me already!”

Justin looked as though he would comply but Brian - surprise, fucking surprise - refused to release the blond and instead smirked and licked the snowflakes on Justin’s lips. Justin seemed pleased and his eyes turned half-lidded in anticipation - and… well with Brian, there really wasn't anything called teasing, _unless your name was Michael Novotny_ \- and he wasn’t bitter or anything. He wasn’t! Michael felt like he should stomp his foot and say it again to make his point, but that was childish. He was not bitter. Bitter about what? Having some storybook romance come to life? Having Brian lift _him_ in the air and twirling in the snow on Christmas? Brian licking snow off his fucking lips?

His palms grew wet while his pants tightened the slightest bit. No. No. No! He was happy. He had Ben. His husband who was inside his mother’s house with his adopted son and daughter. He had his family. And he was fucking happy. Wasn’t he?

Michael always knew that there were different types of families, ever since he learnt that having a father was the norm. He even learnt through his adult years that there were different types of relationships. Brian gave him courage and a hero to idolize as a closeted teenage in high school. Emmett gifted him with true friendship in allowing him to be the gayest version of himself in the joint space they lived in. He learnt how to do his taxes from Ted, and how drugs were the fucking worst. He learnt a steady type of love from David. And a love with more freedom from Ben.

But Brian and Justin taught him the definition of passion. An all-consuming love with all the extraordinary ups and debilitating downs. The kind of love that burnt hotter leaving all emotions raw and ravaged. The kind of love that he always vaguely dreamt about. Not what he had with Ben - simple and reliable, in its stability. But the love in his…

He sometimes found himself wondering if Brian had just given _them_ the chance, if maybe that dream would have been granted to the fatherless, gay kid in the poor neighborhood with the loud mother and sick uncle.

Michael was shaken from his downhill melancholy when Justin broke free from Brian’s lips to ask, “What did Ethan tell the kids?” He pushed Brian away a bit. “Seriously, that asshole had better keep his promise.”

“Promise,” Michael repeated. “What promise?” His insides had gone cold from all the thinking, and the anger was beginning to recoil and lash out again.

Brian interrupted with a hint of impatience as Justin dodged his wandering hand again. “Gus, get your ass out from behind that door. And come tell drama princesses one and two what Ethan said, or else we’ll be out here in the fucking snow all fucking night.”

Gus slinked out from his warm, hiding place into the snow and shivered slightly. Without a by-the-by, he passed Michael without a word and dove into Justin’s open coat for heat. With swift and practiced hands, Justin buttoned his oversized coat over the two of them - even Michael had to admit that it _was_ fucking adorable - and they looked like a two headed creature, Justin only slightly taller than Gus - and didn't that have to stab the blond brat in the ego. Michael cackled in his mind.

Gus sighed and then twisted an ugly sneer at Michael. What the fuck? He didn't do anything to Gus. He never had a chance with Brian in the first fucking place. Justin rubbed his cheek against Gus’ brown hair and smiled, “Just like New York, right?”

Just. Like. Just like New York? Wait. What?

Michael fumed. “What was J.R. doing in New York? I didn't know about that.”

Brian seemed a bit annoyed and was about to mutter a biting remark but his miniature son beat him to it. “That’s cause _she_ didn't go to New York. I went because _my_ dad lives there. Obviously, she went to Pittsburgh because that’s where her father, _you_ , live.” Wow. Gus even drawled like his father with an added dose of condescension at the end. Brian had the audacity to look proud of the rude twerp.

Justin tapped Gus on the shoulder. “You should have some respect for Michael. He’s your sister’s father.”

Brian mimed in the background in a high-pitched voice, “ _He’s your sister’s father._ ” Gus laughed once while Justin cried out his name. “Everyone in this goddamn family’s related somehow. That doesn't mean everyone gets respect automatically. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, sonny-boy. People need to earn respect.”

Michael could only stare. They were like a fucking family. Like him and Ben and Hunter. Like what he had. And the punches kept coming.

New York? Wait, did Gus say that Brian lived in New York?

“Brian,” he started slowly, “you moved to New York?” Please. Please. Please.

Brian raised that infamous eyebrow once again. “Mikey,” he spoke slowly as well - but like he was talking to an invalid -, “I stopped commuting to New York two years ago, and started commuting to Pittsburgh. Haven't you noticed I’ve been missing more often than not?”

What? What?

“But,” Michael spluttered. “You never said… I didn't know… you never told me!”

Yeah, Michael knew Brian wasn't around as much, but that was because Brian was still heavily involved in the night life at Liberty Avenue, and Michael was a married man with a nine-to-four and a family at home. He didn't think that Brian just wasn't there. And did he say something about commuting to New York? Was he visiting Justin for all these years? And he didn't tell his best friend?

Brian looked slightly disappointed and that cut Michael deeper than he thought it could. “Everyone had an idea though. Ted runs the Pittsburgh office. Surely, he would have been bragging about it.”

But Michael always tuned Ted out when he spoke about working with Brian. That wasn't his best feature but he couldn't help not liking conversations surrounding things he couldn't quite understand. Who cared about concepts and age demographics for sexualized advertisements that were mostly scams for the poor folk like him? He never told Brian that, but even he knew it was all bullshit at the end of the day in order to make a buck. Not like his comic books that gave hope to young, impressionable teenagers like him in the past.

“I… I…” stuttered Michael. His head hurt. Who knew this Christmas would turn out so horribly?

Justin threw him a look of pity - the fucking brat - and changed the topic to Ethan - like that was any better. “Gus, tell me what Ethan told you about Uncle Michael.”

Gus suddenly looked adorable, like butter wouldn't melt in that mouth - that could spit venom at Michael. “It wasn't anything important Justin. Ethan just wanted to know what you and Dad were up to these days, so I told him he needed to tell me something in return.”

Brian smirked proudly in a way that shouted for the world to see - that’s my manipulative son right fucking there.

Gus continued on, “So he told me all about how Michael never liked Justin and was jealous of him. That was basically it.” Michael could feel the lies from the distance. Young Kinney had a lot to learn before he reached Brian’s level.

Justin tsked in that annoying way and Gus caved. “Fine. He said Michael -” Justin nudged him and Gus huffed. “Uncle Michael was a pain-in-the-ass when you broke up with dad a long time ago and treated you like shit when you and Ethan were dating because he was jealous that he never got a chance to date dad and you just threw it away.”

Justin was a bit speechless. Brian looked uncomfortable but he rested a hand on Gus’ head. “The fiddler’s full of shit, sonny-boy. Don't pay attention to him. He might be hot shit in the music world but don't let him -”

Gus burst in, “But it’s true! I asked Mom and Ma too. And even Grandma Debs.”

Michael denied it immediately. “It’s not true! But even if I did, Justin broke your dad’s heart so I was just trying to -”

Gus yelled back, “So what! That’s dad and Justin’s business! Just because Mom and Ma fight doesn't mean that I can treat Ma badly just because she’s not my biological mother!”

“Justin’s not even family!” came the stupid retort that Michael regretted as soon as he said it.

Tears filled Gus’ eyes. He sobbed, “Yes he is. Justin. Is. My. Family. I love him. He’s mine.” Jesus. The kid started to really cry then. Heavy, heart-filled heaves laced with pain and angst. Holy shit. He felt kind of sorry for Lindz and Mel. This kid was going to be that emotional teenager when he grew a bit older. He didn't envy them at all.

Justin wrapped his arms around Gus. “Yes. Yes. You’re my family as well, Gus.”

Brian spoke with a bit of spite. “Fighting with a teeny-bopper, huh Michael?”

Michael could feel the disappointment even clearer. And maybe a shitload of guilt. Fuck. He made Brian’s kid cry.

Justin cleared his throat. “Okay listen. Stop yelling and fighting. It’s Christmas and everyone’s in there.” He pointed to the living room of the house. “Our family is in there. We may not be related officially but we’re a fucking family, you hear that Gus?”

Gus refused to remove his face from Justin’s neck until Brian unbuttoned the coat and lifted him bodily from Justin. Gus turned his red face from one neck to another, wet to dry. Justin took the chance to walk towards Michael. “Listen Michael,” the blond began, “I’m sorry for whatever Ethan told Gus. He promised me that he would keep a civil tongue when speaking to my kid, but I guess we’ll have to speak about that at some point.” 

Then, a dangerous look crossed his face, and Michael suddenly remembered Justin’s gang-member days. Fuck. “And yes, I called him _my_ kid.” Oh shit, he did. “So don't ever tell him that he’s not my family, or that I’m not his family. Because fuck defined and conventional relationships.” And Michael remembered the way Justin’s father had abandoned him although they were related by blood.

Michael really fucking regretted those words now. “I’m sorry. I really didn't mean it. It just happened…”

Justin stared at him as his words trailed into the darkness. He nodded once in understanding and shook snow from his shoulders, before looking back at Brian and Gus. Brian was whispering into Gus’ ear who was no longer seemed to be crying but nodding and giggling quietly, looking back at the two of them occasionally. Brian Kinney, Stud of Liberty Avenue, and Brian Kinney, loving father of Gus, just wasn't computing to Michael at that point. He had never seen Brian snuggle into his son’s face like that before. Since when was Brian so _open_ with his affection in public if fucking was never in the picture? Michael shifted his gaze to Justin and then back to Brian and his laughing son. Never fucking mind. Question fucking solved. Obviously the blond twink made out of fucking magic did its work on him.

Suddenly, Gus had jumped down from his father’s strong arms and hurried towards Michael. Oh fuck. The urge to block his face from years of bullying and humiliation struck him. “Uncle Michael!” he exclaimed in a happy voice. What the fuck? “Let’s go inside!” Huh? Michael felt himself blank out for a bit “… making gingerbread men and women because Ma believes in equality no matter the occasion.” His hand was held in Brian’s son’s and he was pulled from the scene of Justin looking at them fondly and Brian giving him a one-handed, two-finger salute.

The fuck was going on? Gus kept pulling and pulling so Michael could only follow the boy and look back as Justin returned to Brian’s embrace. What was he? A fucking intermission? How dare they go back to canoodling in the snow when all that shit just went on? Couldn't they stop the romance for five seconds and act like proper adults? Deal with things? Michael stopped his rampant thoughts and realized that all the issues were already sort of dealt with. But…

“Hey,” he said. Gus kept talking and pulling until they were inside the house. With a decisive thud, he closed the door, let go of Michael’s hand and set up watch at the window, staring at his father and Justin with little stars in his eyes. “Hey Gus,” Michael repeated. “What just happened? Are we ok?” Michael vaguely realized that J.R. had disappeared leaving behind a mess on the table and a trail of sponge pieces towards the kitchen.

Gus flicked his hand at Michael - this fucking brat! - and whispered excitedly, “Shh!! C’mere Michael!” It was _Uncle_ Michael! “It’s finally happening!!”

Michael grumbled under his breath but peeked out of the window to stare at the couple covered in snow. Why the fuck were they still out there? It was so fucking cold. Suddenly, Michael had a bad feeling in his gut.

With an exhale of frosted breath, the two finally pulled away from their heated clasp. Brian raised a hand to softly brush away more snow from Justin’s darkened blond locks. With a soft look in his eyes, he placed both palms on Justin’s elven cheeks, cupping his face in a gentle way that emitted a serious note to the air. Out of all the superpowers in the world, Michael sorely wished to able to read lips or minds at that point in time.

Brian said something - what the fuck did he say? And how did he say it? - and Justin tried to break the hold Brian had on his face. What was going on?

Justin held Brian’s wrists with his own hands and acted to pull them away again before Brian spoke again, quicker this time and more agitatedly. The blond’s body exhaled a loud burst of air, and he seemed to grow weak, letting his arms fall to his side. Justin replied minutely and Brian twitched once before dropping to one knee.

Michael felt his jaw unhinge.

Justin barked an hysterical laugh before pushing Brian’s shoulder, causing him to lose his balance and fall onto the snow. Without wasting a moment, Justin straddled Brian’s torso and tossed his palms on either side of Brian’s head, sinking into the half-foot of snow and moving closer, so they were eye-to-eye… face-to-face… lips-to-lips.

The Gods then decided to grant his wish in the most sadistic way possible.

Since Michael heard - saw, whatever - the moment Justin Taylor agreed to marry his best friend.

Gus screamed in sheer joy and happiness as Brian lifted his arms around Justin’s neck and pulled him into a sealing promise of a kiss. Gus nudged him by the shoulder - such a different way than Justin's to Brian - , “Justin’s now my official family, so fuck you Michael!”

And Michael could only blink at the blatant disrespect before Gus dashed into the living room to spread the news on this suddenly very bleak Christmas night.

***

Denial wasn’t just a river in Egypt.

Michael continued to stare at the celebrating couple in the snow, breaking their passion with bits of laughter and sheer love. Wasn’t it any wonder why Michael was jealous? Why he still held a small flame for the what-could-have-been that was the Brian-and-Mikey show as Gus so rightfully sneered?

All his life, Michael wanted just _one_ thing. 

He wanted to be in a love so _deep_ that there was no doubt that that person would ever leave him - like his fucking drag queen father - and a love so _passionate_ that would make up for all those missed years of affection - from his absent father, harried, stressed, too-hard-working mother and sick uncle who stole his mother’s affection for those years.

He wanted to be swept into a harried hurricane of feelings like in his comic books. The ones where they couldn't live without the other. The ones where life wasn't worth living without the other in it.

But, life didn't give Michael what he _wanted_. It gave him what he _needed_ , and that was the stability of a family. His rock of a husband - both figuratively and literally - and snarky adopted son who nursed that part of him that needs to be needed. Life even unexpectedly gave him a daughter who was brilliant - in her own ways, he still doesn't know what the fuck arts-and-craft she was trying to make earlier.

Denial wasn’t just a fucking river in Egypt.

So yes, ok, Michael understood it. Why everyone kept telling him that goddamn phrase over and over? But couldn't they have just let his dreams live on a little? It wasn't fair to his husband but it was how he felt. He couldn't change his feelings for the _first_ boy he fell in love with. But maybe now, as he watched Brian roll Justin over into the snow before dragging a hand from his blond hair down his jaw, opening his mouth even further against the beaming smile -

Michael looked away. Maybe now, he finally had enough of an incentive to give that dream - that boy, no, that man - up. Tears fell from his eyes and he wiped at them furiously. Fuck. This was painful. Maybe this was why he didn't want to do this… why he kept his dream alive for so long, even without any hope or requital. So he didn't have to face this pain...

Fuck. His chest hurt and his heart throbbed. But he had to get through this. Especially, since he _was_ going to be Brian’s best fucking man. That was _his_ spot and he was going to fucking fight Ted if he were going to challenge him for it. If he couldn't be the groom, he would be the best fucking best man there was. He was selfish. Sue his Italian genetics.

Slapping his cheeks, he grimaced at even more pain. No pain, no gain. He rose to his full height, and followed part of the path left by J.R. - that messy daughter of his - and taken by Gus - that brat was going to learn fucking respect for him before he left this holiday - into the living room.

Denial wasn’t just a river in Egypt.

Michael smirked. Maybe he would suggest an Egyptian theme to Emmett later tonight. Just in passing. Gaudy gold all over the place. Tacky decorations and the works. Emmett will love it. Justin and Brian… not so much… they already had the passionate love, they didn't need a _perfect_ wedding to top it all off.

No one said he had to be _Saint Michael_.


End file.
